


Breaking Down Walls

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: NCIS: New Orleans
Genre: Car Accidents (mentioned), Chris doesn't know how to share when he's hurting, Established Relationship, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10068818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: Chris toys idly with his phone debating whether he should call or not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tulane is a hospital in New Orleans. This is a follow up on the idea in canon that Chris usually doesn't let people know if he's hurt (Percy's lit into him about it). This is him taking a step in the right direction and an excuse for King to cuddle and comfort him. Any mistakes are my own, I'm off sick again so had to write some more for the boys!

Chris toys idly with his phone debating whether he should call or not.

The ER is a bustling hub of activity, nurses rushing from patient to patient as what must be the majority of the doctors in the building swarm into the busiest section of the hospital. He’s been put on a bed off to the side, not a priority as they deal with the other victims of the pile up. He’s lucky, he knows, and he can handle the pain until they deal with the people who really need their help.

“How’re you doing?” A tired looking nurse pauses by his gurney, checking the gash in his side. It’s not clotting properly but he’s in no danger of bleeding out so he can’t complain. He’s grateful she doesn’t touch his hastily splinted leg.

“M’fine.” He assures her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He can hear children crying, can hear how exhausted the staff is already and it’s only been an hour and a bit since he was brought in. This lack of movement, lack of being able to do _anything_ is grating on his nerves.

“Thanks sweetheart,” she pats him on the arm. “But we’ve got this covered.”

She glances pointedly at his phone. “Is there someone you should be calling?”

Chris winces. She hurries off again with a small smile. He’s been putting it off because the last thing he wants to do is worry anyone. But if he doesn’t, the hospital will call considering King is his emergency contact. The nurse has threatened that already, that someone will need to come and get him considering his truck is totaled and he’s not moving very fast.

“Hey,” King picks up on the second ring. There’s the clatter of pots in the background and Chris’ stomach rumbles at the thought of King’s fantastic cooking. He’d been on his way home after work so he hasn’t had anything to eat in hours. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh yeah?” A smile creeps its way across his face. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I could come by later and we could watch a movie, or maybe go to bed early.” Even laying on a gurney King can get him all hot and bothered. A doctor walks by calling out that they’re getting low on saline drips. King pauses.

“Christopher.” He winces at the sudden change in King’s tone. “Where are you?”

“Tulane.”

“What are you doing in the hospital?” Worry laces King’s voice. Chris can already hear him abandoning whatever he was working on in the kitchen to come to him.

“M’fine,” he says quickly. “Just a little banged up. They wanted me to call you and tell you myself before they called you to come get me. But it’s going to be a few hours still, I can take a cab.”

King mutters something he can’t quite catch but sounds vaguely unflattering.

“I’m coming to you.”

“You don’t need to,”

“Christopher.” King cuts him off. There’s no arguing with _that_ voice. “You’re down in the ER?”

“Yeah.” Chris can’t help the guilt gnawing at him for disrupting King’s night. He _knew_ this would happen if he called.

“I’ll see you soon.” King promises, voice soft like Chris is in need of reassuring. The tightness in his chest he hadn’t even noticed relaxes a bit at it.

King hangs up and Chris sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, tired and sore.

::

He’s playing solitaire on his phone when someone appears at his bedside awhile later. He knows who it is without glancing up.

“This is _not_ just a little banged up.” King sounds choked and Chris closes his game to face him. His eyes are wide with worry and fear and he reaches out, hesitantly, to touch the bruised skin on the left side of his face. “How long have you been here?”

Chris glances at the clock. “Almost two hours. They’ve been busy with the people that really needed their help.”

Kings hands hover over the large gauze pad on his side, where the blood is still slowly soaking through, takes in the temporary splint that’s keeping his leg straight. It’s probably broken, he’s broken his ankle before and this feels similar. If he doesn’t think too hard about it, the insistent throb and numbness isn’t too bad.

“What the _hell_ happened?”

“Pile up on my way home. I was towards the back so I got off easy.” He catches King’s hand and holds it, squeezing gently.

“This is _not_ easy.” King squeezes back. He leans in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips, regardless of who may be watching. Chris thrills a little at it. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“This is why I didn’t want to call anyone.”

“We’ve talked about this before.” King frowns at him. “You don’t get to suffer alone. You’re hurting you call one of us.”

Chris ducks his head.

“I’d rather leave a dinner with Professor Longhair himself than to find out you’ve been hiding an injury again.” King murmurs and presses a gentle kiss to the bruise on his cheek. “I mean it Christopher. There will _never_ be a time I won’t want to be by your side.”

He’s blushing something fierce at the quiet declaration but he can’t stop the smile it sends across his face. It pulls a little at the dark bruising already showing but he ignores it easily.

“You know I feel the same.” He manages. It’s worth it for the relaxed set to King’s shoulders and the loving smile he gets in return.

King grabs a miraculously empty chair from nearby and pulls it up next to his gurney and then pulls a deck of cards out of his pocket with a grin.

“I grabbed them on the way out without thinking.” He explains, shuffling them like a pro. “When my mother got sick we used to play cards on her hospital bed.”

“What game do you wanna play? Black jack?”

“I was thinking go fish.” King winks.

Chris huffs out a laugh and accepts the cards handed to him, feeling a hell of a lot better than he had before.

::

By the time his side gets eight neat little stitches and his leg gets a proper cast that’s going to leave him on desk duty for the foreseeable future to his dismay, it’s after 2 in the morning.

Any adrenaline he might have been feeling has gone the way of the dinosaurs. Pain and exhaustion are catching up to him and he barely makes it into Pride’s car before he’s drifting off. The pain meds are taking their hold making everything soft and fuzzy at the edges.

He loses time between the hospital and his apartment. It feels like no time at all before King is gently shaking him awake and helping him up his front steps. The crutches are awkward and dig into his armpits uncomfortably but King stays close, makes sure he doesn’t trip when he can barely keep his eyes open.

They get him seated on the edge of the bed and King helps him undress, careful with the NCIS jacket he threw on instead of a shirt as they were leaving, and the sweatpants they’d helped him into after he got the cast.

He settles on his back, King shifting him this way and that until he’s at the head of the bed with a pillow propping up his leg. Then King makes to leave and Chris lets out a sound of discontent, reaching for him.

“I’ll be right back.” King hushes him. “I’m just grabbing my go bag.”

Chris lets his eyes slide closed again and doesn’t bother opening them when the bed dips next to him. He feels King run a tentative hand down his side and he hums, enjoying the touch.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He murmurs breath warm against Chris’ shoulder. He presses a kiss to the skin there.

“S’fine.” Chris’ tongue feels heavy; everything feels like a huge effort. He’s ready to finally _sleep_. “Just want you close.”

“I can do that.” King agrees easily. He settles against Chris’ side carefully. It’s mostly his left side that’s sore so King avoids it. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Chris can think of a few things but he’s too tired to joke. He reaches blindly for King’s hand, squeezing when the other man tangles their fingers together, and resting low on Chris’ stomach.

King sighs and kisses his shoulder again. “Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Chris hears him but he’s past the point of no return, drifting peacefully off to sleep.


End file.
